I'm hoping you weren't heaven sent
'Cause only hell knows where you've been
Your built composure's wearing thin
And all your walls are caving in
Before you shut this down
I just wanna lift you up
I'll take all this love I found
And I hope that it's enough

- "Only Love" by PVRIS

Steve had just finished tearing the plastic wrap off a jigsaw puzzle for Jake when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered as he got up to toss the wrapping in the trash can. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Aniela Kowalski from the office of the Secretary of State. I'm calling for Steve Rogers?"

He froze, his hand hovering over the trash can. "Uh...yes, I'm Steve Rogers."

"Are you available to take a call from Secretary Ross at this time, Mr. Rogers?"

"Yes..." What on earth could the Secretary of State have to say to him?

"Please hold."

Steve let the plastic fall into the trash can while his mind whirled. He didn't have long to wonder, though. After only a few seconds, the line clicked and a new voice began to speak.

"Captain Rogers! It's an honor to finally meet you. I'm sorry our first meeting couldn't be in person."

"Hello, sir," Steve said. He found himself straightening, drawing himself up even though Secretary Ross couldn't see him. "May I ask what this is about?"

"I understand congratulations are in order," Ross said in a cheerful tone. "A son, wasn't it? And what is his name?"

The question was an innocuous one, but Steve felt himself growing tense all over. "Jacob."

"Jacob, wonderful! And he is...four years old, is that correct?"

"Yes." Steve glanced over at Jake, who was sitting perfectly still where he'd left him on the floor by the coffee table. He'd looked up at the sound of his name.

"I'm sure he must be quite a handful, especially for someone who leads such a busy life. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?"

Turning away from Jake and wandering over to the window, Steve frowned to himself. Everything about this conversation felt off. He didn't know what Ross's motives for this call might be, but he highly doubted it was just to chat. Especially considering they'd never spoken before. It made his hair stand on end to realize how much a complete stranger already knew about his son. Was it somehow connected to the CIA's involvement with the Hydra base cleanup? Or was this because of the procedures to get Jake's citizenship in order?

"Thank you," Steve said, staring blankly out at the bare tree branches blowing in the wind. "But I think I can manage."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Ross said. "I'm sure the Avengers headquarters has all of the resources necessary for raising a small child. But if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to call. I would hate to think little...Jacob...was lacking for anything. That would be unfortunate."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said slowly. Was that a thinly-veiled threat? Why? What was Ross getting at?

"All right, I won't take any more of your time. Have a good day, Captain."

"Yes...you too. Goodbye."

Steve stared at his phone after the call ended. Was he just being paranoid? Not every government official was secretly working for Hydra. But there was something going on here that Steve didn't understand, some agenda he couldn't quite put his finger on. It worried him.

He turned back to Jake, who still sat there at the table, his eyes unfocused and staring off into space. Well...whatever Ross or anyone else had up their sleeve, Steve wouldn't let any of it affect Jake.

"Okay, how about that puzzle?" Steve said, walking over and sitting down across from Jake. "You ready to put this thing together?"

Jake's gaze snapped back into focus. "Yes, s...Steve."

Steve smiled, pushing aside all of his worries for now. He opened the box and dumped the puzzle pieces out on the table. "Okay, let's see if we can put together the picture on the box." He tapped the simple picture of a barn and several farm animals. "Here, why don't we start with the edges. Can you find all the pieces with a straight line like this?"

Jake's little hands moved swiftly, sorting through the puzzle pieces as directed. Soon, they had the four sides of the picture in place.

"Now, what piece do you think goes here?" Steve asked, pointing at the pink, curly tail of a pig on one side.

Jake's eyes darted around, then he snatched up a piece that was mostly pink. He tried it one way, then turned it around and slotted it into place.

"Good job," Steve said with a warm smile, watching as Jake continued to place puzzle pieces. "That's it, buddy. You're doing great."

Subject M07172013J03. Terminated September 13, 2014.

Bucky stared at the words, stark against the white background. There were precious few details in this record. The only reason listed was Failed to meet developmental standards. No explanation of what those standards were. No mention of how they had terminated their precious experiment. Since it had happened over a week before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the data dump, the two incidents didn't seem to be related, which had been Bucky's first assumption. Maybe there was a more detailed account somewhere else—it was one of the older files, so maybe there was more information at the first base.

But he knew one thing for sure. This was the third child they had seen in the records Tony had gone through. The same picture sat at the top of the file, crossed out with a red X.

That's what had happened to him. That's why they hadn't found him when they raided that base. He'd been killed almost a year and a half before they even knew he existed.

Bucky pulled up several files he'd been looking at and put them all side-by-side on the screen. Slowly, he'd been piecing together the story of what they'd done to Mabel, starting with her children. Steve's children.

They'd kept her on a relentless schedule, giving her just a few months in between each pregnancy. The first was Jake, of course. Then there had been a miscarriage, and the only information on that one was that it was a girl. Then came the boy they'd terminated around the time Steve had brought S.H.I.E.L.D. down. Next was Eve, who would have turned two in April. After that, twin boys born after only six months—one stillborn, the other dying within a few hours. The next one, another boy, was aborted when they detected a heart defect. And of course, at the end of this long list was Grant.

Bucky stared bleakly at this list—this long, long list—of suffering. In the five years since they had begun, Mabel had been impregnated seven times. Steve had eight children through her, though only one had survived. Eight children. Eight.

He stared at the screen, but all he could see was that worn, weary face looking up at him with tears in her eyes. They had pushed her so hard, their only concern being to get results quickly, to squeeze everything out of her that they possibly could. Was their urgency the reason there had been so many failures?

Failures. Is that all they are? Experimental samples, thrown away if they're not useful? Those were children. Innocent children. They slaughtered them. One after another. Like butchers. Like—

"Hey, Barnes!"

Bucky jumped and looked up, suddenly realizing someone had called his name several times already. Natasha stood next to him, watching him with concern. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail today, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked down at him.

"Sorry, I was just...you haven't moved all day. So I thought you might be hungry."

Bucky noticed for the first time a plate sitting on the corner of the table. She nudged it closer to him. It was just a peanut butter sandwich and an apple, but the mere thought of eating anything turned his stomach. Swallowing hard, Bucky turned back to the screen in front of him. "No thanks."

"Okay...well, I'll just leave it there in case..." She shifted, sticking her hands in her pockets.

Bucky had a feeling she wanted to say something more, but he just kept staring at the screen, not giving her an opening. The words blurred and blended together meaninglessly, but he didn't even blink.

"You've been at this for quite a while. Maybe you should take a break?"

Bucky glanced towards the window and realized for the first time that it was dark outside. How many days had it been since he'd started working on this? How long since their raid on the Hydra base? Did it matter?

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

The lie echoed loud and clear around the room for all to hear, but neither of them acknowledged it.

"Okay," Natasha said, reluctantly backing away. "I'm calling it a night. I better not find you still here when I get back, or I'm telling on you."

She cracked a half-smile, but he didn't respond.

Silence fell over the room after she left, except for the occasional clicks and tapping of the keys. Bucky sat wrapped in a blanket of silence as he dove back into the darkness.

Sam had forgotten it was the day of Steve's appointment with the judge until he stepped into the kitchen and found Steve spreading butter and jam on toast for Jake. He wore a suit with a tie slung over one shoulder, and he looked a little more rushed than usual.

"Sorry, I forgot it was today," Sam said. "Here, lemme take over."

Steve straightened with obvious relief. "Thanks, I'm running a bit behind..."

Sam took the knife from him and shooed him away. "Relax, Cap. It's just a formality, right? You got this."

Steve nodded, hurriedly straightening his tie. He spared one last smile for Jake. "You be a good boy today, okay? Have fun with Uncle Sam, and I'll be back as soon as I can. I don't know how long it'll take..." he added to Sam, grimacing apologetically.

Sam shrugged. "No worries. You do what you gotta do."

After one final glance around the room, Steve hurried off. Sam finished spreading the jam on Jake's toast, but that gave him an idea. As he slid the plate in front of Jake, who sat stock-still on his usual stool, he cocked his head to one side. "Hey, whaddya say to something a little different for breakfast today?" He knew that Steve, boring chef that he was, had made scrambled eggs and toast for Jake every single day that he'd been here. "You ever eaten frog-in-a-hole?"

Jake looked up in alarm, half of his toast crammed into his mouth. He shook his head mutely.

Sam grinned at his expression. "One bite at a time, kiddo," he reminded Jake, knowing that Steve was trying to teach him table manners.

Jake hastily dropped the toast on his plate and chewed his mouthful with difficulty as he watched Sam cut a circle out of the middle of two slices of bread. Sam held the two circles in front of his eyes like glasses, pairing it with his goofiest grin, but Jake didn't laugh. He just looked at Sam like he'd grown two heads.

Chuckling to himself, Sam got the skillet heated up and dropped the bread in. He cracked an egg into each of the holes and monitored them carefully to make sure everything was cooking evenly. Jake watched him intently until Sam finally slid them onto two plates and added the circles he'd cut out of the bread.

"There you go," Sam said with satisfaction, sliding Jake's plate back in front of him and perching on a seat next to him. "Simple but stylish."

Jake stared unblinkingly at the egg sitting in the center of the toast, as if waiting for it to do something. Strange—usually he started stuffing his face as soon as food came within reach.

Finally, without breaking eye contact with the egg on his plate, Jake whispered, "Uncle Sam? Where's the frog?"

Sam roared with laughter, nearly falling off his stool. Jake jumped, and Sam tried to rein in his mirth a little. "The egg, Jake. The egg's the frog!" He could only laugh harder when Jake shot him a look of total consternation.

Wiping away tears of laughter, Sam said, "That's just what it's called. Here, look—you can dip this into the egg first." He dunked the circle of bread into the runny yolk of the egg. Hesitantly, Jake followed suit.

They made it through the rest of breakfast without incident, though Jake actually ate his meal slowly, as if expecting at every moment that a tiny frog would leap out of the egg onto his face. After the meal, Sam washed the few dishes they'd used, and he had Jake dry them. The kid was too short to reach the shelves and put the dishes away, but his little arms were strong enough that he even managed the large frying pan without dropping it.

Watching the intense frown on Jake's face as he made sure to wipe away every last trace of moisture on each dish, Sam was reminded yet again of Winter. Funny, he never thought he'd grow nostalgic for the mornings spent teaching a scary assassin how to dry a frying pan without scratching the non-stick coating with his metal hand.

Once the dishes were done, Sam turned with his hands on his hips to survey the sparkling-clean kitchen. He didn't really feel like starting up another card game that would have Jake throwing himself on the floor all day. They needed a different sort of activity this time.

His gaze landed on the digital clock hanging on the wall, which also displayed the date. Aha!

"You know what we need right now?" he asked Jake. "Valentine's treats!"

Jake just blinked at him.

Sam shrugged. "Okay, so it's not Valentine's Day for another month or whatever. But do you know how many people there are living in this place? We've gotta get started now if we're gonna have enough for everybody!"

While Jake looked on, Sam got out all the ingredients necessary to make a nice big batch of sugar cookies. Let's see...us three plus Jake is four...Nat and Clint and Wanda, that's seven...Tony and Rhodey and Vision are back now...oh, but Vision doesn't eat... So let's say three dozen for starters.

He used his mother's recipe, which he had memorized after so many years of helping her bake mountains of cookies every Christmas and Easter, and sometimes other holidays too. As he worked, he had Jake stand on a chair at the counter next to him, explaining each step as he went. He made all the measurements himself just in case, but had Jake help him stir the batter, roll it out, and then cut out the cookies and put them on the pan.

While the cookies cooled, they cleaned up again and took a short break outside. Sam taught Jake how to play tag, and quickly discovered that he didn't even have to go easy on him, like he normally did when playing with Sarah's kids. Jake could run incredibly fast on his short little legs, and he had a knack for chasing Sam into corners so he couldn't escape.

Pretending it wasn't because he was completely winded, Sam called a stop to the game and brought Jake back inside to check on the sugar cookies. They found Wanda and Vision standing there talking, Wanda with a glass of something in her hand. They were just chatting, but Sam called out, "Caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, didn't we?"

"They smell delicious," Wanda said. She smiled at Jake, who just stared up at everyone with round eyes, trying to take everything in at once.

"Wanda was just telling me about some pastries from her homeland," Vision said, "and I suggested she make some for us...well, for the others..." He smiled a little sheepishly, since he obviously wouldn't be eating any of their treats.

"Oh, we're out of eggs, sorry," Sam said, gesturing to the cookies lying on every available surface. "And almost out of flour too."

"I can go to the store," Wanda said. "Maybe we can make them tomorrow."

After the two had wandered down the hallway out of earshot, continuing their conversation, Sam leaned over and whispered to Jake, "Just between you and me, I think someone's hoping for a Valentine this year, if you know what I mean."

Jake obviously didn't know what he meant, but Sam didn't mind. There were more important things to focus on right now. Namely, decorating cookies.

Sam pulled out the decorating supplies that he'd bought around Christmas time. Some of them were a little too Christmas-y, but there were plenty of sprinkles and different colors of icing to use. To start with something simple, Sam showed Jake how he could make a smiley face with icing.

Jake watched him carefully, then squeezed out a smiley face with red icing.

"Yeah, that's it!" Sam said, moving on to make a heart on his next cookie.

Jake made another smiley-face cookie. Then another. And another. And another.

"You really like those smiley faces, huh?" Sam asked lightly, glancing up from putting the symbol of Steve's shield onto another cookie.

Another smiley face. Another, and another, and another.

"You know, you can decorate them however you like," Sam said. "They don't all have to be smiley faces."

Jake, who had been reaching for his tenth cookie, froze and looked up at Sam warily.

"I mean," Sam hastily amended, "if you want to just make a bunch of smiley faces, that's totally cool. But you could also do, like...a star, or maybe some other shapes? And you can use these sprinkles too if you want. It's all up to you. Whatever you wanna do!"

By the time they got through all the cookies, Sam managed to coax Jake into copying a few more of his designs, and to completely drown one cookie in green sprinkles (in Jake's defense, the lid fell off). And finally, they were able to savor the fruits of their labors.

When Jake bit into one of his smiley-face cookies, he stood contemplating it with an odd expression as he chewed. Sam didn't even have to remind him to eat slowly this time. As Sam licked icing off his thumb, he watched Jake with satisfaction. Had the poor kid ever tasted anything so sweet? He doubted Hydra would have given Jake cookies of any sort. They'd be too concerned with making sure every bite of food that passed his lips had the maximum amount of nutrition, and that certainly wasn't the case with sugar cookies.

Well, Hydra was a bunch of idiots. Everyone knew that baking cookies, decorating them, and then scarfing them all down was an essential component of anyone's childhood.

"Oooh, I could definitely go for a second one," Sam said, patting his stomach. "How 'bout you, kiddo?"

Slowly, Jake nodded.

The sun was already setting by the time Steve walked up the drive to the front door of the Avengers headquarters. How had it gotten so late already? There had been some delays at the courthouse, and he'd gone shopping again afterwards to get Jake some more clothes...but somehow the whole day had slipped by.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam to take good care of Jake. He just didn't want to miss a single second. After four years...he owed it to him, didn't he?

Steve's phone started buzzing. He had to set one of his shopping bags on the bench outside the front door to pull out his phone. When he saw who it was, he sighed and set down his other bags as well.

"Good evening, Mr. Rogers; this is Aniela Kowalski. Are you able to take a call from Secretary Ross at this time, sir?"

"Yes, thanks," Steve said, trying to tell himself that the tickle of worry going down his spine was just needless paranoia.

After a few seconds, he heard Ross's voice again. "I hope this isn't a bad time, Captain?"

"No, I...just got home."

"Ah, from your hearing with Judge Strickland? I understand everything went well for...Jack, was it?"

"Jake," Steve corrected him. "It was just some paperwork to get his citizenship squared away." And why are you so interested? he wanted to ask, but he held his tongue.

"That's excellent news!" Ross said, though once again his enthusiasm rang false in Steve's ears. "Of course, that's the news we always want to hear—that the biological parent can maintain custody of his child."

Steve frowned as he watched the sun sink behind the hills. "Sir, can I ask what this is about?"

Ross chuckled. "I suppose it must seem strange to you that I'm taking such a personal interest in this. But you have to admit that your situation is...unique. Unprecedented. The circumstances under which he was born and raised...I thought it wise to keep an eye on him. To make sure he's adjusting well, you know. That he has every opportunity to succeed."

"Thank you for your concern," Steve said stiffly.

"I know there are many hardships awaiting you," Ross continued, "even more than you probably realize right now. And I want you to know, Captain, that there are other options open to you. If the burdens of fatherhood weigh too heavily on you, in addition to your other responsibilities—"

"Thank you for calling," Steve interrupted, not trusting himself to keep calm for much longer. "But I need to have dinner with my son."

"Of course. Have a good evening, Captain Rogers, and don't hesitate to call if—"

Steve hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket before he could crush it to bits. Clenching his teeth, he paced up and down to burn off some of the indignation smoldering in his chest.

What was Ross implying? That he wasn't cut out for this? That he should...what, give Jake up for adoption or something? And why was the Secretary of State so worried about Jake, even with his unique background? Did he see Jake as a threat somehow? A four-year-old assassin? Please. That might have been Hydra's end goal for Jake, but he was just a kid. He was harmless. He was traumatized. The last thing he needed was to be treated like a bomb waiting to go off. That would do nothing but confirm Hydra's view of him.

Steve drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his hands over his face to try to calm himself down. He couldn't go up to Jake while he was this angry. It irked him how much Ross seemed to want to meddle in his affairs, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now. Steve did have custody of Jake, and he was determined to take care of him to the best of his ability. That was all that mattered in the end, right?

With an irritated huff, Steve grabbed his shopping bags again and let himself in through the front door. As he walked over to the stairs, he tried to push his worries to the back of his mind and put a smile back on his face. For Jake. He couldn't let Jake wonder if he was angry with him.

But by the time he'd reached the second floor, Steve still felt rather hot around the collar. When he saw a light on near the living room, a thought occurred to him: Bucky. He could talk to Bucky about this. Vent a little. Then, when he was a little calmer, he could go and help Jake get ready for bed.

The light came from a conference room next to the living room, but no one was there. He could hear voices echoing down the stairwell from upstairs, and he realized everyone must be eating supper. Several people, anyway. He thought he could hear Natasha's voice.

He was about to turn around and leave, when he happened to glance at one of the couches in the darkened living room. Bucky lay sprawled out, cheek pillowed on his metal arm. The only illumination was the band of light spilling out of the conference room. But even in that meager light, Steve could see the deep shadows under Bucky's eyes, the drawn lines of exhaustion etched into his face. His hair was disheveled and tangled, as if he hadn't been bothering to brush it.

Steve set his bags softly on the nearest chair, looking closely at Bucky's sleeping face. He hadn't seen him at all in the past two days. Bucky hadn't even come back to their room at night. Steve hadn't had a real conversation with him since...when?

Since right before the raid on the Hydra base. They had gone in...and it was like a part of Bucky had died alongside his daughter.

I can't do this again, he thought, slowly reaching out. I let him slip from my hand that day on the train, but I'm not going to let it happen again. Never again.

But...he hesitated.

He didn't want to wake Bucky up, especially not when he seemed so exhausted. And yet, he wanted to just talk with Bucky. He had a feeling there was probably a lot Bucky needed to say too, if he could just be convinced to start. He could tell Bucky was hurting, but he didn't know what to say or do to help.

Maybe Bucky wouldn't have anything to say that would help him either.

With a quiet sigh, Steve knelt by the couch and just watched Bucky sleep for a while. His deep, even breaths would have to suffice for calming him down. It was working, to a certain extent. Instead of anger, now Steve mostly just felt...

He didn't know how he felt. Sad. Tired.

Alone.

Steve leaned forward and kissed his best friend on the cheek. "I miss you, Buck," he whispered.

He turned, gathered up his purchases, and continued upstairs to warmth and light.

Do not be overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.

- Romans 12:21